Don't You Dare Be Late
by CaptainAvenger
Summary: Boy, my life was REALLY messed up. First, I travel from the middle of WW2 to 2012, and now I'm back. But I can't complain; I have Peggy, the ARMY, old tech, missions, battle, everything I love. Still, I've committed myself to Nick Fury, to SHIELD, and they need my help to defeat Loki. Even though this seems like a dream come true, will I have to sacrifice everything...again?
1. My Symbol

**CHAPTER 1**

**My Symbol**

* * *

Another shot of whiskey burned in my mouth; I wished more than anything at that moment that I could get drunk. It had to be around two in the morning, and the S.H.I.E.L.D. ship/plane was purely silent except for the constant purring of the four main engines. I was alone in my 'hotel room', except for flashbacks of war trauma. Bloody, hell-like images filled my scarred eyes, dead men on concrete dyed scarlet. My attention was snapped back to earth when I heard footsteps approaching. Silently, I slid my shield on my arm and stood. Whoever was approaching wasn't being too cautious about the noise he or she was making. I grabbed a pistol from my bedside table and clicked the lock off. My metal door suddenly opened a crack, sending a slim ray of light shining on the titanium flooring.

"Cap'n Rogers? You awake?" Stark's voice whispered, and I could have sworn it had echoed.

"Am now. What do you need?" I answered gruffly, dropping my shield with a _clank_. He entered, and his eyes darted from the gun in my hand to the half-gone bottle of alcohol.

"Isn't that disobeying orders, soldier?" he questioned.

"Shut up Stark. I can't get drunk. It's part of this damn chemical mixture inside me," I replied lying back onto the cot. The pistol made another click as I locked it again and then I tossed it onto the table. "What do you want, anyways?"

"Someone to talk to," he answered, sitting next to me.

"I thought your brain usually likes to reject the idea of communicating with me," I muttered.

"Why can't you sleep?" he broke the silence a few minutes later.

"None of your business," I snapped as I turned the light on. His black hair was ruffled, though I doubted mine looked any better. He was wearing sweatpants and his favorite brown shirt. I think that shirt and jeans were the only garments I've seen him in when he wasn't suited up.

"Can you please tell me what you want and leave?!" I asked.

"Ummm, Starbucks vanilla latte would be nice."

"I'm not in the mood for your little jokes. I'm actually about to go find a punching bag to beat the crap out of. And if you don't leave, your face is going to become that punching bag."

"Watch it Rogers," he scowled.

He knew he needed his metal dress if he had a chance in beating me in a fight. Thankfully, that same thought ran through his mind and he turned and strided out. Now, I needed a punching bag; my pillow was about to become my victim. I gave it a good bash, curious to see what would happen.

The result: it exploded and feathers attacked me and the air.

* * *

When I was pretty sure I had gotten all of the fluff out of my hair and mouth, I exited my metal cage/hotel room. Maybe I should try and find Stark again...see if he'll explode when I hit him...it did sound better then whatever might be on TV during this hour of the morning.

I figured I might as well explore the endless maze of this ship/plane. Right now it was currently in plane mode, but it didn't seem right to call it just that. Maybe I should call it a 'shane'. Nah, I'll call it a 'plip' from now on.

My mind wandered, and I was grateful it didn't go back to the nightmares. I started to not pay attention to wear I was heading. Eventually, I ran into a dead end...literally. I coughed, sincerely hoping that there wasn't security cameras on the plip. But S.H.I.E.L.D. being a secret agency, I'm guessing the guards are going to tease me about 'sleepwalking' tomorrow.

Suddenly, I was aware of where I was-exactly. It was a sort of hallway, with rows of doors. There were no signs, no telling what they were for, or what was inside them. It was rather dark, and I just stood there for about fifteen minutes to let my eyes adjust completely to the lack of light. There had to be some clue, something to show what these were for. Yet there was nothing, absolutely nothing. But something caught me eye as I turned around to leave. Engraved onto the doorknob closest to me was a hammer-Thor's hammer to be exact. I realized that I had my confused face on (which didn't happen often), because I truly was thoroughly puzzled. I stepped to the left and studied another doorknob; this time it was Hawkeye's bow and arrows. Without warning, the feeling of eyes watching me, a sort of presence, intensely washed over me. I turned instinctively to where I thought it was coming from. All that was there was the end of the hallway, another door. Had someone stepped out, then gone back in? I felt naked without my shield, but I knew I was powerful enough to kill a regular sized man easily, if necessary. Cautiously, I edged my way to the door; I walked heel first, as to not make a single sound. I reached it without anything happening, but the imprint on this doorknob surprised me.

Because it was, in fact, a star with four rings rippling out from it. It was my symbol.


	2. Forward To the Past

**CHAPTER 2**

**Forward To the Past**

The intelligent part of me thought, "It's a trap."

The dumb part of me thought, "Open the door, you jerk!"

Of course, I reached my hand out to the handle. The knob turned easily, the metal slick and chilling in my hand. A satisfying click greeted me, thankfully not a deafening alarm.

I paused, listening for any sound of life. My senses were completely alert, and awake.

I cautiously creaked the door open and stepped inside. There was barely any light; it was dim, but I could just make out shelves of Captain America and World War 2 memorabilia. However, before I could react, my body fell limp and my mind and eyesight went black.

* * *

Sounds became audible, and light became visible through my eyelids. Even so, I didn't open my eyes. Currently, I was laying down on a rather uncomfortable bed. Someone to the right of me was sobbing, and there was a lot of commotion and pandemonium going on outside of the room I was in. The chair the woman (I assumed it was a female) creaked as she rose and stepped lightly towards me. I stayed motionless, not knowing if she was friend or foe.

"Oh Steve. Please wake up. I love you. I need you," I felt a light kiss on my cheek.

That voice. I know that voice.

Peggy.

My eyes flew open and my head jerked to where I had heard the whisper.

I had startled her by moving so abruptly, but it was her. It was Peggy Carter how I remembered her: young, bright, beautiful.

I was speechless. Had I now gone BACK in time? Gawd, my life was messed up.

But that wasn't my top priority. I had Peggy, and I could apologize for the date I missed seventy years ago.

"Peggy?" I whispered, my eyes staring into hers.

"Oh Steve!" she cried joyfully, pouncing on me and kissing me full out.

I shut my eyes. I couldn't believe this was happening - whatever it was. I never thought I'd get to experience this blissfullness again.

When we separated, we both just stared at each other, smiling.

Then I swallowed, about ready to answer the question I'd been dreading.

"Peggy, what year is it?"

"Steve, why do need-"

"Just answer the question."

"1943...but why-"

"I can't believe this. I CANNOT believe this!"

"I don't understand..."

"Peggy, how long has it been since I crashed the plane?"

"3 mont-"

She was interrupted by Howard Stark stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. He broke out in a broad grin when he saw me.

"Captain Rogers! Glad to see you awake!"

"It's good to be, sir," I muttered in response. My brain started working overtime.

Tony Stark hasn't been born yet.

I've gone back in time.

The war isn't over yet.

I've seen the future.

My life is REALLY messed up.

I have no idea what's going on.

Peggy's okay.

"Captain, is everything alright?" asked Mr. Stark.

"Yes, sir. I just have a lot of questions to ask you all."

* * *

Colonel Phillips's worn, scarred face stared right at me, his eyes piercing mine. I stared back at attention.

"We've need you more times than I care to count, Captain Rogers. You've missed a lot of missions where you could have been so damn useful. And seeing as you've been a piece of ice for three months, there's quite a few things we need to catch you up on. As you know Schmit had 'died', or whatever the hell that good-for-nothing fly did. Anyways, he's not anything to worry about now. Right now, the United States is worried about the mental, Hitler. While you were blacked out, Germany been taking over countries by the second..."

He continued filling me, and the strategic war part of me listened thoroughly, but part of me kept thinking about Peggy. Maybe it was my heart.


	3. Apologies

**Chapter 3**

**Apologies**

* * *

"There's something...different about you, but I just can't quite place my finger on it," whispered Peggy softly.

She was curled up on my lap, as we were alone in a private room at one of the Army bases. The walls were wooden, and the furniture modern...for 1943, anyways.

"Sometimes the most hurt men, are the wisest," I mumbled.

Peggy sat up. "Pardon?"

I didn't repeat what I had said; in fact, I didn't say anything at all for several moments.

"You know how I was...a Capsicle for three months?"

"A 'capsicle?'"

"Yes. It's what Tony called me."

"Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who's Tony?!"

I let out a short snort of laughter. "You'll think I'm going crazy from PTSD if I told you."

"No matter what you tell me, Steve, I will never call you crazy."

Sighing, I stared into her eyes, knowing I couldn't lie, and couldn't deny her the truth; because, she knew that I knew I could trust her, and that she's never call me crazy.

"I will tell you. However, if you want me to stop, I will. Now let me clarify that I KNOW, and I swear on my own life that this was not a dream," another exhausted sigh escaped me. "I'm not...returning, I guess you could say. And never really, well, 'woke up' from the ice. Because I've gone to the future, Peggy. I've met Tony Stark, the forty-three year old son of Howard. I've met people from other universes, realms, and the Tesseract...doesn't ever stop causing trouble, even seventy years from now. I was in the year 2012, Peggy, I swear in God's name and my life...so much has happened."

Silence was her only response and I wasn't surprised by that. In fact, I didn't think ANYTHING that ever happened to me could surprise me now, by even the slightest bit. I could feel her wide eyes looking me over, but I avoided her gaze. The wall had magically become very intriguing and interesting.

"I believe you," she answered softly.

No words were spoken; they weren't needed.

But something was. We kissed.

* * *

I lay on my cot, fake sleeping since everyone else in my division was asleep (I could tell by the enormous amount of snoring). No matter how intelligent I was, I couldn't figure out how this could of happened. I know a lot of the chemical experiment changed me, but I didn't realize I would turn into a human time machine.

Last night, I was in 2012. Tonight I was back in 1943. I was where I belonged; the only problem was, I had a mission, I had fellow soldiers, except that it was seventy years from now. But S.H.I.E.L.D. needed me, so did Tony, Natasha, and Banner. I had direct orders from Fury, and I needed to follow them. The only thing was...how?!

Was there, by any chance I could contact them? Did they even know what happened to me?

Did I?

* * *

Colonel Phillips had left Peggy and I to ourselves in the main section of the Strategic War Division. It was almost as if she was ignoring me, but what did I do? Then it hit me.

"I'm sorry," I announced.

"Sorry? Sorry for what?"

"I missed a date."

She kissed me. Good response, I'll take it.


	4. A Call Through Time

**Chapter 4**

**A Call Through Time**

* * *

_(NOW BACK IN 2012)_

Fury strode into the main computer room of which many agents, along with Stark, Banner, and Natasha were occupying.

"Has anyone seen Captain Rogers?!"

Because of a slight note of panic in Commander Fury's voice, all commotion ceased.

"I saw him at like 3 in the morning of which he threatened to beat the crap out of me. He had a gun and alcohol with him," Stark answered. "Don't know if that's important. And I think what was happening was he was having PTSD mental breakdowns or something. He is a soldier."

No one said anything. Stark filled in the silence, "That was hours ago, so um..."

Agent Hill commanded orders into her radio. "I need agents on every deck and every square inch looking for Rogers. Does anyone copy?"

With a scratchy sound in between, many people responded and began to search.

* * *

(_IN 1943_)

If they knew I was gone, they'd be tearing the plip apart to find me...right? Fury would be desperate if he thought I had escaped and hid from them.

A telephone. It was a long shot, but I knew Stark's number...for some reason. Why did I have Stark's number? Huh, well it was worth a shot.

"Peggy, where's a telephone?"

"Why?"

"Don't question."

She gave me a puzzled look.

"There's one in the lab, but wh-"

Now knowing the location, I sprinted towards it, almost skidding at each turn. I could hear Peggy trying to keep up behind me (which I had no idea how she could do that in high heels) but she was lost easily. I made it to the phone, and dialed each number with great strength.

It was ringing.

* * *

(_IN 2012_)

Fury had all the screens set to the security cameras, in hope of locating Steve, but no signs of him had appeared.

Just then, Tony's phone rang. Everyone stared at them. His eyebrow raised as he picked it up.

"Hello, you have reached Tony Stark. How may I-... STEVE! ... Where are you?! ... Wait, WHAT?! ... 1943?! HOW?! ... That's not - I can't - Look, I'm the most advanced, and I have no idea how to fathom how to build a time machine- ... What do need me to do? ... I've been on this thing WAY more than you, and I have never, ever seen- ... Wait, Peggy's with you? Peggy Carter? Your girlfriend- ... Okay, call her whatever you want-"

Fury was listening to the conversation intently, but he still didn't have the faintest clue what Tony was talking about.

"You want to talk to Fury? ... Okay, here he is."

Stark hand outreached the phone towards the Director, and her put it up to his ear.

"Captain Rogers?"

* * *

(_IN 1943_)

"Director Fury! I can't believe this! Thank God it's you!"

"Steve, are you going insane?" Peggy kept asking questions like that while I was on the phone.

"One second," I said to Fury. "Agent Carter, stand at attention until I tell you otherwise!" I snapped the order.

She stood tall and straight. "Yes...sir."

I rolled my eyes. "At ease."

She obeyed.

"Sorry, Director. Giving orders."

"I understand," he said. "But where are you?"

"I'm in 1943. I don't know why, but...but sir, I don't want to leave."

"We're going to need your help when Loki attacks. You do realize that, right?"

"Sir, I don't know how to go back."

"We'll figure one out. There must be a way."

"Director, this is my dream. I have everything I sacrificed in my hands again, and Schmit is still 'dead'. Peggy is here with me at this exact moment, and if you take me back, you'll have to take her with me."

"Captain, that is an order."

"Where I am, I will obey orders because I am a soldier here, but you are not a Colonel, you are not a General. You are not above me. I don't have to take your orders."

There was silence.

"Captain, you're on speakerphone here."

"Good."

Although she was still at attention, Peggy was giving me a shocked look.

I heard Stark's voice in the background. "Fury he's right. We are not your soldiers, and we're not your agents. We can solely on volunteering. We only came because you and S.H.I.E.L.D. asked us to, and I have every right to get up right up now and leave, and not come back. So does Banner, and so does Cap. You can't force him back, Fury."

"Thank you, Tony."

More silence. I don't think Fury had ever been stood up to like that.

"Do you think we can call you back?" questioned Fury's gruff voice.

"Do you have my number?"

"Got it now," replied Stark.

"Try me."

I slammed the phone down.

That didn't go as planned.

Turning, I saw that Peggy was open-mouthing me, and I considered sticking my tongue out at her like Tony does, but I thought better of it.

"Who was that?! Steve, I'm about to call you 'insane'. Not crazy, but insane!" she squeaked.

Boy, I had a lot to explain.

A LOT.

* * *

"...and then there's Natasha Romanoff, a secret agent from Russia-"

"Russia? What's Russia?"

Once again, she was curled up in my lap, and she felt tiny against my buff frame.

"U.S.S.R.," I replied, and for about the hundredth time, it crossed my mind how much Earth had changed in just seventy years.

"There's also Bruce Banner; he's a doct-"

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yes?"

"Is the United States going to win the war?"

"Yes, Peggy. The U.S. actually becomes the most powerful and feared; we come out on top from this."

"Do we?"

I couldn't answer that right away. Because as far as my fortune telling went, I had been Sleeping Beauty for decades.

"I hope, Peggy. I really hope."

"Why did you hesitate?"

"Since I've gone back in time, I'm not sure what will happen by the time I move forward."

"Are you going back to the Avengers?"

"If I did, I'd be going _forward_ to the Avengers," I muttered.

A few precious minutes slipped away.

"What would you do if I completed my duties to S.H.I.E.L.D. and Nick Fury, and I couldn't return?"

"I haven't the faintest idea. I really don't," she whispered, more to herself than me.

"How did you survive for three months without me?"

"Because I had faith in you. Faith that you would return."

"Will you keep that faith if I left?"

"No."

"Wait, what?"

"I wouldn't. Because it's no longer faith, Steve, it's love."

Just then, Howard walked in, obviously forgetting to knock. I sort of pushed Peggy off me, and stood up at attention.

"Sir?" I saluted.

"If you're not already _occupied_," his eyes darted from me to Peggy. "Cap, I have some guns to show you."

"Of course, sir. I'm coming."


	5. Can I Call You Back?

**Chapter 5**

**Can I Call You Back?**

**(TONY'S POV ENTIRE CHAPTER)**

* * *

Despite my rivalries with Cap, I really wished I had his help right now. Illuminating my face, my phone was cold in my hands. A few taps with my finger, and Steve was one button away...sort of. It was about 1 in the morning, or some other ridiculous hour like that. No one but me knew all the details of Cap's and my conversation; I hadn't told a soul what he had asked me to build, not even Pepper.

I wiped my sweaty brow with a rough rag, smudging my face with grease. Slipping the device back onto the table in front of me, I returned to the task at hand. However, I couldn't concentrate on the various metal pieces and tools in front of me, therefore I stepped out of my lab and strode along, keeping an eye out for a dead-end hallway with engraved doors.

* * *

"Tony. Tony. Tony," repeated a whispering voice as urgent hands shook me awake. Although they were unwilling, my eyelids fluttered open. I was expecting Pepper, so I let out a little squeak when I realized it was Natasha's brown eyes bearing down on me.

"Nat?" I muttered sleepily, wiping the sleep from my face. "What do you want?"

"Director Fury requests your presence."

Crap.

* * *

"What is _this_?" Motioning around him, Fury's hands pointed to my project...the_ secret_ project of which I had forgotten to put away.

"Uh...metal, tools, a few tables," I stuttered.

"_What are you creating, Mr. Stark?_" replied Fury impatiently.

"Just, uh, experimenting."

"With guns?" he held up my detailed blueprints. Instead of standing by my side, Agent Romanoff stepped awkwardly off to the shadows.

"You do remember that I used to make weapons, correct, Director?"

"Correct, Stark. However, I would like to task why you're using S.H.I.E.L.D. supplies to build it and why-"

"Maybe it's because you have me 'locked away' from my house and my supplies. Have you forgotten Steve's words so quickly? If you wish for my to return to my resources, I will _happily_, I repeat, _happily_, do so."

Apparently, Fury had ran out of back-firing words, and remained silent. Natasha just became a statue, her eyebrows raised.

I stomped out of the room.

* * *

"Pepper, Pepper, will you calm down. Barely anything dangerous has happened," I cried desperately into the phone.

"Tony I have a feeling that you're going to regret this in the long run," she suddenly sounded less panicked...and less like my mother.

"I'll take my chances."

"Lemme guess, Mr. Iron Man, you already have a scrape on your face."

"You know me too well."

For some reason she didn't have a comeback, then her voice came through quietly, "Just stay safe. Don't get beat-up too much...I love you."

Now it was my turn to be speechless.

"Love you too."

* * *

Cushioning my head, the mixture of a feather pillow plus the silk sheets brushing lightly against my skin were comforting. I pondered about where Steve was, and I knew that he was in much worse sleeping arrangements than what I had right now. He hadn't mentioned it, but I was guessing that where he was, the time zones were different; for all I knew, he could be freezing his butt off right now, completing some WWII Army mission. Chilling my fingers agaainst the metal frame of my phone, I knew it was time for one more call. Going into my History, I located the right number, and sent. _Please let this work_, I thought.

It was ringing.

"Hello, U.S. Army New York division, how may I help you?" questioned a peppy, high-pitched voice.

"Hi. I'm looking for Captain Steve Rogers. I as told I could reach him by this number."

"Excuse me, sir, but what's your name?"

"Tony. Tony Stark."

"Okay Tony. Just let me put you on hold for about five minutes."

A click went off, signaling my 'about five minutes' had begun. Counting down, I was surprised when a lady answered in just two minutes, seventeen seconds. She had a much deeper voice; more romantic and attractive.

"Hello, sir. I'm Agent Peggy Carter. Captain Rogers was sent off to a mission in the U.S.S.R. this morning and is currently unreachable. Do you think I could help in any way, Mr. Stark?"

"Did Rogers tell you about me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did Rogers tell you about me?"

"Yes, sir."

"What did he say?"

"I'm sorry, but that's classi-"

"Are there other people in the room?"

"Yes, sir."

"Can you change that?"

"One second."

I could tell she had covered the mouthpiece, but I could still hear a faint and distant, "This is a private call. I'm taking it in my office, line three."

As I waited a few moments, she traveled briskly to her office.

"Yes, Mr. Stark, I'm back and alone," her crisp voice returned.

"I repeat, did Cap tell you about me?"

"Yes, not much, but enough."

"Tell me what he told you."

"You're Howard Stark's son, a billionaire living in a skyscraper in New York City, and you're helping him and S.H.I.E.L.D. defeat a mental retard named Loki from a different planet called Asguard."

"Correct, all of those are correct. However, did he tell you what I was building? I have a few questions."

I wasn't sure if she got distracted or hesitated, but a few seconds occurred before: "No, sir, he did not."

"Look, Miss Carter, is there _any way_ to contact him?

"If he's not in combat, he may respond to his radio. Although, it breaks rather often from his banging it around and so it may be broken already and-"

"Can you just try him?"

"Um...yeah."

Once again, I was put on hold. a metallic click, then staticness, and then...Steve.

"Stark, look, I really don't have much time, we're almost to a Nazi base, we're actually in range so if I cut off short - damn it. I broke it. I know it. Can you still hear me?"

"Yes we can, Capsicle. Just keep it with you."

"Right, look Stark, what's your question I have to - MOVE OUT!"

Slowly, I pulled the phone away from my ear. Through the static I heard guns and yelling. A lot of shooting. bloody screams cut short. I shut my eyes tight, trying to block it out. It was bringing painful, macbre flashbacks of which I had been avoiding remembering for years.

BOOM! CRASH!

Peggy and I had been pure quietness, listening to every commotion.

So this was his war, his battles.

Every single day.

He as right; I wasn't a hero.


	6. Tick Tick Tick

**Chapter 6**

**Tick. Tick. Tick.**

**(STEVE'S POV AGAIN)**

* * *

Missions. Was that really the only thing they wished for me to do? But, I guess it was better than going back to being a show-girl. My men and I were traveling again. I wacked my radio, wishing for it to be fixed. My prayer wasn't answered.

Not long ago, it had dawned on me that both Stark and Peggy had heard me fighting. I really hoped I didn't have 'any explaining to do'.

Trees flashed by, and the three soldiers in the Army jeep with me bounced into each other from the uneven dirt trail. Except for the constant rattle of equipment, there was no sound, as we were all lost in our own thoughts.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

I glanced around, snapped back to earth. It was faint, but was I really the only one hearing it?

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Wait a minute. The road was bumpy.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Oh god-dammit.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

"GRENADE!"

I was a millisecond too late.

_BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_

Blood.

Hurtling screams.

Darkness.

* * *

It felt as if I was waking up from being drunk or a concussion. A splitting headache, and the inability to think straight. And did the grassy and tree-filled ground really wave that much on a regular basis? Then my mind cleared. My 20-20 vision returned; and I recalled that I could not get drunk.

_Then what the hell happened?_

In a rush, the fresh memory flooded my mind.

My men were gone; I was alone. Just because of a damn Nazi or Hydra grenade. A _grenade._

Brushing myself off, I stumbled to my knees. Wreckage lay smoking around me. Wait, _smoking_. It was smoking! That means that if the metal was still that hot, then I couldn't of been out that long. Despite my returning dizziness, I was able to stand...unsteadily. Quickly, I grabbed a tree for support.

I slipped my compass out of one of my many pockets. A photograph of Peggy smiled at me. I was thankful for it.

* * *

**(PEGGY'S POV)**

Panicked, I marched into Colonel Phillips's office.

"Sir, I can't reach Captain Rogers or any of the men he took with him. I've tried all the radios, but all I receive is static."

It took him a while to glance up from the letter he was writing in flourished manuscript.

"Agent Carter. If a soldier doesn't reply to his radio, what does it mean?"

I said nothing.

"You know the answer, so answer me."

I swallowed. "His radio is broken."

I refused to say the truth he was trying to squeeze out of my tightening throat.

"Or?"

"He's in c-combat," I coughed.

"No, Agent Carter. It means he's _dead_. However, I would like to try a few different methods of communication. I don't Rogers or any of his men to be gone; they're valuable."

That's all my Steve was to the Colonel. He lived for war, and war was won by soldiers and fought with weapons. That's all my Steve was to him. A weapon. And although he may be a valuable tool to Phillips, he was a different type of valuable to me. I was going to find him, with every last breath in my body.

"Sir, we should send a rescue mission. And with all due respect, I believe I should lead."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Short chapter, sorry. Been busy and have writer's block.


	7. Base 169E

**Chapter 7**

**Base 169E**

**(STEVE'S POV)**

* * *

A single stick cracked beneath my foot, as my heavy footsteps crunched dead, forgotten, frozen leaves. Nipping at my exposed skin, a chilling breeze swept through the freezing forest terrain. Although I knew it wouldn't help, I tugged my Army jacket closer around me, desperate for warmth. Over the past few hours, I had walked countless miles searching for an American base that I recalled was in this area somewhere. However, since my compass, or any of my tracking devices for that matter, weren't working after the explosion, I was lost.

Exhausted, all I wanted to do was rest, but I realized I would fall asleep and never wake. The dryness in my mouth, throat, and body; I needed water. Looking up from watching my combat boots take one weary step after another, I scanned my surroundings for anything meltable: a patch of snow, a puddle of ice. There was nothing, absolutely nothing.

I was close to dying. I was aware of that.

_Peggy._

I had to keep going. For her.

_Bucky. Dr. Erksine. Howard. Colonel Phillips. The President. Nick Fury. Tony. Natasha. Dr. Banner. Thor. Peggy._

All the people who had put faith in me; all the people who had _died_ still believing in me. I had to keep going. For them. For the entire beautiful country of the United States of America.

An especially painful twinge in my midsection was enough to bring me stumbling to my knees. I gasped, spluttering, as I clutched my side.

_What the hell?_

Slowly, I opened my eyes, bringing e cold, I quickly removed my coat. Even though I had braced hands to my face. Scarlet. They were covered in deep red. Blood.

_Oh no. Please God, no._

Despite the cold, I quickly removed my coat. Even though I had braced myself, I wasn't prepared for the flood of red my brown shirt had become. Wincing, I pulled the shirt off. The wound was deep, serious...fatal. Without hesitation, I ripped my stained clothes and tied it around me for pressure.

There I lay, abandoned and wounded. Was I the "Star-Spangled Man With a Plan"? No. Because I didn't have a plan. I didn't have anything. Except, unless, if...could that Army base be as close as I thought it was? it was worth a shot...it was my last hope..please God...I screamed. For several minutes, although it felt like years. My desperation, my sorrow, my scarred heart; it all came loose in my voice. I just screamed.

* * *

Less than a mile away, Base 169E heard the pained please piercing the crisp air. Soldiers turned to stare at each other, questioning eyebrows raised. Many grabbed guns, prepared for a fight. The Sargent ran out from his tent. He hesitated before barking orders.

"I want the 56th out there looking for whatever the hell that was!"

Immediately, about 200 men moved out, loosing formation as they hit the forest.

* * *

"Sir, it's Sargent Walters in on the line from base 169E. He has both good and bad news," a blonde reported, stepping into Colonel Phillips's office.

"Thank you," he replied, as his scarred hand picked up the nearest receiver.

"Hello Sarg. Hope this was worth anseri-"

"Sir, we've located Captain Rogers."

"What? He was declared dead not even six hours ago."

"Yes, well, we've got him here. He's got the right dog tags on him. One of them is his own: Captain Stephen Grant Rogers, and one belonging to Sargent James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes. Those are correct, right?"

"Sure as hell. But what's your bad news?"

"He was practically frozen through when we found him."

"Just thaw him out. We've done it before."

"But that's not the only problem."

"Oh boy," the Colonel muttered.

"First of all, he has a very deep gash and he's lost _a lot_ of blood. We don't know how he got it, but it could be fatal even to him. Second, we don't have the proper tools to give him a complicated procedure. An Allied hospital is sending the best docs they have over to us, but it could be a while before they arrive. Maybe too late."

"Do the best you can."

"We're trying. Until hell grabs up, we'll try."

"What about the rest of them? About fifteen men were with Captain Rogers."

"We're working on that too. I have about 200 men out there looking for...anything. Rogers is not close to talking, but my best guess is bombs. And I have a feeling he walked a _long_ way to get as close as he was to us."

"Just keep me posted. Thank you Sargent Walters."

Hanging up, Walters ended the conversation.

_At least he's alive_, thought Phillips.

As if on cue, Peggy strided in. Seeing the stressed look on the Colonel's weathered face, she turned on her heel, prepared to leave.

"Agent Carter. I was just about to come and find you."

"Yes sir?" she faced him.

"Cancel your rescue mission. Base 169E has found Rogers."

"Is h-he alive?' she stammered.

"Barely. He's in recovery."

She stared at him, her eyes hopeful; her face was anxious.

"I'll keep you posted."

"Yes, sir."

Realizing that was all he was going to tell her, she left.

Tears of joy started in her eyes.

_Oh Steve. How I wished I could tell you 'I love you' right now_, she thought, not knowing she had just whispered it aloud.


End file.
